It was evening, and still the Black Desert storm was churning away outside. I worried it would continue all night.
Apart from Sa Dipeng, who was on sentry duty, everyone had cleaned their feet with sand—a trick learned from Asat Amat—and was now sound asleep, cocooned in sleeping bags. I told Dipeng to get some rest. Sitting with my back against a wall, I cradled my rifle and kept a sharp lookout for wild animals that might be thinking of attacking as we slept. How much deeper into the Black Desert would we be going, and what traps lay in wait for us?
This is how the desert is—calm on the surface, especially when there’s no wind; a world covered in fine gold dust. But this smooth exterior has swallowed countless beasts, countless people. The ever-changing dunes and the creatures that live among them are all potential threats. Danger lurks everywhere. It was a miracle not to have lost Professor Chen or any member of our team.
Sunk in thought, I didn’t notice that the sky had gradually darkened. The wind was unabated, like the sobs of countless demons. Now and then, sand trickled through cracks in the roof. If this went on much longer, the wall we’d climbed through would be completely submerged.
A movement caught my eye. It was Julie Yang, walking toward me. I hadn’t spoken to her very much, mainly because she and Kai didn’t get along—in fact, as the days went by, they seemed unable to stand each other. To be polite, I smiled at her. Julie said, “Mr. Hu, you should get some sleep. I’ll stand guard for a couple of hours.” I told her there was no need, that Mr. Wang would be taking over soon. Instead of going back to sleep, she came and sat beside me.
There was something I’d been meaning to ask her: “Miss Yang, why is it so important to find this ancient city of Jingjue? How do you know there is any trace of it left? No one has ever discovered its location—your father and his team could have ended up anywhere. Deserts all contain untold dangers, and this one is an unsolved riddle.”
Julie nodded. “Mr. Hu, what you say makes sense, but I’ve always believed my father found Jingjue City,” she said. “From the time he went missing, I’ve dreamed of a huge gaping hole, dark as lacquer. A coffin hangs above it, tightly wrapped in chains. Something gigantic is perched on top of it, but I can’t quite make out the shape. Each time I peer closely, I always wake up just before the shape comes into focus. It’s been more than six months now, and I’ve had this dream almost every night. I’m certain it’s a vision sent by my father, and that the coffin belongs to the queen of Jingjue.”
Who’d have thought Americans could be this superstitious? Not daring to question her, I placed a comforting arm around her shoulder and asked what she knew about the queen.
“My father migrated to America early on,” she said. “He bought a trunk of historical documents in the States. It had been discovered by some European archaeologists in Xinjiang at Niya oasis, near some ruins that they were able to prove dated from the Han dynasty. All this pointed to Jingjue City, the most powerful of the thirty-six kingdoms of the Western Regions. He got an expedition together and ventured into the desert. All his life, he’d been drawn to the story of this glittering ancient place. We wouldn’t even know of its existence if it weren’t for a British explorer who led a group into the Taklimakan Desert before World War Two. He was the only one to emerge alive, though his sanity was long gone. The evidence of his camera and diaries showed remnants of Jingjue.”
Julie handed me a package. I unwrapped it to find some yellowing black-and-white photographs and an old notebook crammed full of English words. The pictures were hazy, but I could make out some kind of desert settlement with a spire in its center.
Julie answered my questioning look: “Yes, this is what my father brought back from England. They belong to the unfortunate explorer. His diary only records what happened up to the point when he reached the underground river leading to the city. He says something about entering its walls the next morning—and then it goes blank.”
As we continued to talk, I thought I saw a movement from the corner where the great stone head was. One of its eyes had twitched. Could this be happening? Or was I seeing things after two nights in a row without sleep?
I walked over to investigate. The gas lamps were shaking in the wind, dappling the walls with light and dark stripes. As I drew closer, I realized the culprit was a huge black ant, the size of a knuckle joint, creeping across the eye. Its tail segment was a smear of red, and it was this that caught the light. I flicked the insect to the ground and stepped on it. Strange; it was harder than any ant had a right to be.
The walls were full of cracks—it was difficult to say which one the ant had used as its entrance. Julie came over to see if I was all right and I said it was nothing, just an ant. I woke Kai for his turn as sentry, added some fuel to the fire, and turned off the gas lamp before burrowing into my sleeping bag. I was so exhausted that it seemed only moments before morning arrived, still roaring with wind, though a little less forcefully than the night before. Maybe this demonic storm was finally coming to an end.
Yet more sand had blown over the ruin, and barely any of its surface could be seen. A couple more storms like this and the city might vanish altogether—though not forever, because the endlessly stirring sands of the Taklimakan ebbed and flowed and might spit forth these ruins again.
Hao Aiguo and his students had excavated more of the statue, all the way down to its thighs. The whole team was clustered around the site except Asat Amat, who was taking advantage of the weakening wind to check on his camels.
Pulling more dried food from my pack, I watched blearily as they worked. Afraid of damaging the carvings on the stone body, they were proceeding gingerly, using a fine brush to dust the sand off. Professor Chen nodded a greeting at me. He seemed to have recovered. This would be a chance for the students to get some practical experience, he told me—much more important than any amount of book learning.
Before long, the whole statue stood revealed before us. It was dressed in the style of the Hu tribe—a long robe tied with a sash, over a wide skirt—arms by its side, torso covered with markings that appeared to be some kind of religious text. Professor Chen recognized the language as undecipherable. No one was even sure whether it consisted of words or some sort of code.
Sa Dipeng interrupted to ask, “Professor, this statue is much bigger than others like it. I wonder if this tribe could have been visited by extraterrestrials. They could have mistaken the aliens for gods and built idols to worship them. These marks could be the language of another planet.”
“You should study harder, Sa, my boy,” scolded Hao Aiguo. “You’re a bright fellow, but your brains are all over the place. How did you leap from here to aliens?”
The professor, in contrast, smiled kindly. “It’s no bad thing to have imagination, young man. It keeps the brain active. But as archaeologists working with history, we have to follow one principle: hypothesize boldly, but investigate cautiously. Creativity has to be based on a foundation of facts. Take this big-eyed statue as an example. The ancients thought their destinies were written in the sky and studied the stars for answers. Wouldn’t they have wished their eyes could see a little farther? And mightn’t they have expressed this wish through the figures they carved? Similar ones have been found in Sichuan’s Three Stars Mound. I’d wager they show the aspirations of our ancestors.”
I let out my breath in admiration at Professor Chen’s profound knowledge. He had shared what he knew without trying to crush his listeners’ own intelligence. Hopefully, Hao Aiguo would learn a thing or two from this.
Asat Amat burst in just then to say he believed the storm would be over within half an hour, thanks to Allah’s intervention. Sand had almost covered the exterior wall; if the wind had lasted just a couple of hours more, we’d certainly have been buried alive.
The team, anxious despite the diminishing wind, were able to relax at Asat Amat’s words. The students continued to listen to Professor Chen’s wisdom, and I put a kettle on the fire to boil. We’d be able t
o start moving once we’d had our tea.
Just as steam started rising from the spout, screams erupted near the statue. I saw the others running back and forth, calling out, “Where are they coming from?” and “Oh God, there are more over there!” Dashing over to look, I saw a bubble of sand rising, spewing forth countless huge ants. Chu Jian was whacking away with a shovel, but even though he must have swatted hundreds of them, he didn’t seem to put a dent in their numbers. They continued to swarm out, packed so densely it made my scalp itch to look at them.
I thought we must have disturbed a nest with our digging but looking around, I saw dozens of holes opening up across the room, floods of ants rising from them, all the insects like the one I’d seen the night before—shiny black bodies, a crimson rear. Asat Amat took one glance and fled straight back out. Chu Jian abandoned his shovel—there were just too many ants for him to make a difference.
Julie, having seen more of the world than most of us in her work as a photographer, knew immediately what was going on. “Everyone, quick, on the roof!” she cried. “These are desert army ants—if you’re too slow, they’ll eat your flesh and leave nothing but bones.”
The ants seemed to take up half the space in the room now, more arriving every second. Not just on the floor, but also on the walls and pillars, climbing everywhere. Little Ye whimpered as she took hesitant steps back and forth, but there was no way to avoid them.
Never mind the eggheads, even Kai and I were trembling. These tiny insects looked terrifyingly vicious. Could the skeleton we’d found earlier have been one of their victims? No wonder not even the slightest scrap of flesh was left.
I tried hard to calm myself down. Asat Amat, for all his promises to protect us, was long gone. No time to curse that slippery coward. I tipped over the fire and scattered solid fuel in front of us. Soon a wall of fire shielded us, but the ants seemed willing to hurl themselves into the flames, and as more charred bodies piled up, I realized it was only a matter of time before they snuffed it out.
We used the few minutes we had to pack up our equipment as well as we could, hauling it up to the roof. By now the sandstorm had waned to almost nothing. It was chaos below us—dozens of yellow sheep, wild camels, sand wolves, and mice were stampeding through the ruins of the city. The army ants were out here too, swarming over any animal that moved too slowly. With the venom in their jaws, Julie hastily explained to us, they could stop the heart of an elephant.
There must have been millions of the black and red creatures. Had the ruins somehow become a giant nest? We used our shovels to keep them from getting too close. Meanwhile, by the far wall, Asat Amat was fumbling with his camels’ ropes, trying to untie them so he could make his escape. I tossed my rifle to Kai and said, “Hit his hat.”
Kai aimed and fired without hesitation, and with a bang Asat Amat’s leather cap went flying. “Old man, don’t you dare run,” I yelled. “Or the next bullet will hit your backside, and I don’t think Old Hu will mind.”
Asat Amat waved his hands frantically in surrender. Although our rides were secure, we still couldn’t get across to them. Staying on the roof wasn’t an option either—as we watched, a nearby wall collapsed, and out of the wreckage climbed an ant the size of a small calf. This must be the queen—her torso had six pairs of transparent wings sprouting from it. Had the sandstorm disturbed the whole colony, prompting the queen to lead a migration?
The appearance of the gigantic insect made us all go pale. Julie shouted, “Strike the head to kill the body. Shoot her!”
Kai stamped his feet with agitation. “That won’t do any good!” he yelled. “My rifle isn’t powerful enough!” He fired anyway, emptying his magazine, but sure enough, the queen was unharmed.
I pulled off my scarf and wrapped the remaining solid fuel in it, lit one corner, and, timing it carefully, dropped it off the roof onto the giant insect. The queen writhed as she sizzled, and her soldiers swarmed toward her, frantically trying to smother the flames with their bodies. I saw our chance and waved for everyone to leap off the roof. Tall Chu Jian carried Professor Chen on his back. The rest followed single file, with Kai bringing up the rear.
Asat Amat had calmed the camels down by now, and we were able to scramble onto them, heading for the open desert. Wild animals of all kinds surged past us, but the predators among them were no threat. Like us, they just wanted to escape.
I turned back after a few hundred yards, by which time the walls of the city were more or less gone, covered by a bubbling mass of red and black bodies, churning like the sea. They weren’t leaving the ruins, though; we were safe now.
Groveling, Asat Amat explained that he hadn’t intended to abandon us, he was only trying to lead the camels away before the ants reduced them to skeletons. Kai didn’t believe him, tapping his rifle and growling, “Tell it to my gun.” I put my hand on his shoulder—we couldn’t afford to quarrel with Asat Amat; we needed him to get us out alive.
“We found refuge, thanks to the white camel, and then escaped the army of ants,” I said. “It must have been through Old Hu’s intervention, which means he favors us. We’re your brothers, Asat Amat, and trust in you. Old Hu will surely punish anyone who betrays a brother.”
Asat Amat was pleased. Over and over he said, “Praise Allah, Old Hu is the one true god. We’re all brothers, friends and brothers. The true lord will surely protect us.”
And so we survived another calamity and pressed on, the nine of us and our camels trekking across that wide expanse, insignificant as so many grains of sand.
We were still half a day’s journey from the Western Night City when the wind finally died down. Instead of traveling under a blanket of stars, we’d been traveling by day, under a blazing sun. We did so only because we had more than enough water to stay hydrated, and because we would be able to replenish our supplies at our destination.
The desert was featureless and borderless in all directions. If not for the long trail of footprints behind us, we’d scarcely have believed we were moving forward at all. I felt a burst of respect for those solo explorers who ventured into the Gobi. Maybe only by walking alone between heaven and earth could they truly understand the meaning of life. Of course, as much as I admired them, I’d never do such a thing in my life—I’m someone who needs to be around others.
I noticed that the sand beneath our feet was rising and falling much more than before. Asat Amat told us that under these tightly packed dunes was an ancient city swallowed by the yellow sand. He asked everyone to climb up to the highest peak and, pointing to the south, informed us that our destination was straight ahead: the ruins of the Western Night City.
I raised my binoculars for a closer look. A lush green oasis filled my vision, like an emerald on a tray of golden sand, with the dark ruins of a city in its center.
The Western Night City was well preserved. It had been founded relatively late and wasn’t destroyed until the wars of the late Tang dynasty. At the start of the nineteenth century, a German expedition discovered it and made off with most of the paintings and statues, anything of cultural value.
Now only this shell of a city was left in the desert, and the ancient Peacock River petered out here. Because underground water channels crossed this point throughout the year, it had become a crucial site for desert travelers to replenish their supplies.
As the line of camels descended the large dune toward the distant green, Asat Amat suggested that we rest a couple of days there before entering the Black Desert, after which it would be hard to turn back. Our pack animals had been through a great deal and needed to be fully recovered before setting off again, given how important their cargo was.
This sounded good to me. I welcomed the break and thought I might find some excuse to get the team to turn around. Forget about finding Jingjue City; just dig a couple of pits nearby and be done with it. The longer this expedition went on, the less my heart was in it, and I thought the more time we spent in the desert, the more likely it was that something w
ould go wrong. Next time we might not be so lucky.
The greenery hadn’t looked too far away from the top of the dune, but it took a solid three hours’ walking before we arrived there. The city walls were made of black stone, badly weathered in some places, though the citadel itself was solidly built and showing traces of its former glory. Whenever oil field workers, archaeologists, or geological surveyors passed through, they always sought refuge here, blocking the entrances with rocks to keep wolves out.
It was the middle of the windy season, so no one was likely to come by except us. We found a spacious room in the citadel, lit a campfire, and started making food.
Asat Amat and I went in search of the city’s ancient well, which allegedly hadn’t run dry once in thousands of years. Asat Amat assured me this was a miracle from Old Hu, which I chose not to comment on. When we found the well, we lowered a bucket. The shaft was deep, and we didn’t hear a splash until several dozen yards of rope had passed through our hands. I pulled the bucket up and took the first sip. The water was icy cold, so pure and refreshing that the desert heat vanished in an instant.
We brought all nineteen camels over to the well and watered them thoroughly, then set out the salt licks and bean cakes that were their food. Only after the animals were taken care of did we return to where the archaeologists were resting, with two buckets of well water.
Everyone was wiped out, collapsed on the ground fast asleep, some even with half a biscuit between their teeth, so tired they’d fallen asleep halfway through their meal. I let them doze a little longer, only waking them when I’d boiled a pot of water, instructing everyone to wash their feet and then pop any blisters that had formed.
When all that was done, I could finally sleep, and must have been dead to the world through an entire day and night before my body recovered. The second night, we sat around the fire as Kai entertained us.
The City of Sand Page 6